Sometimes, the process of writing doesn’t require you to put pen to paper or click away at the keyboard. Sometimes, it involves sitting still on the balcony, looking at cars going where they’re going; looking at the sky and skyline; noticing the trees are an arcing line of shadow at night, scarier, almost, than the way lights are always blinking away the dark – from the casino a city or two away to the red flickering lights on top of buildings just a hop, skip and jump away from where I am.

Sometimes writing involves reading. Escapist lit. Or not. Sometimes, it involves reading about books you want to get but instead look at the growing pile of unread books surrounding you, and just click save before you get consumed by paper like poor Tuttle here:

Sometimes writing involves a stream of consciousness blog post on writing, full of run on sentences and a woeful lack of lyricism just because…